


Dormiveglia

by paperiuni



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, Romance, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperiuni/pseuds/paperiuni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra and Josephine negotiate a morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dormiveglia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Umbralpilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbralpilot/gifts).



> To my darling Umbralpilot, traversing the woods of RL obligations. Here's a tiny distraction.

Sunlight poured through the haphazardly drawn curtains in a gentle beam, spilled into hazy gold on the thick rug of august ram wool that was Josephine's most prized possession for six months of the year, and climbed along the bed to shine straight in her eyes.

"Mmmh," she protested to no one in particular, and tugged on a pillow to cover her eyes. This evoked a drowsy grunt from Cassandra, occupying said pillow and still slumbering. Hastily Josephine relinquished her grip. Last night Cassandra, her stalwart, stubborn Seeker, had knocked on her door well past the night prayers and almost swooned into her bed. Sometimes, she'd thought as she helped Cassandra pull off her boots and unhasp the brigandine she was buckled into, she forgot that Cassandra was not the force of nature that she seemed.

Wrapped in that steel and will, power and purpose was a woman. The most fierce and singular of women, but one that sometimes needed to sleep in on a morning.

Disentangling herself from the quilts, Josephine crept out of the bed. Once she'd pulled a comb through her hair forty or so times--her mother wouldn't know of the missing several dozen--and found her robe, she was presentable enough to call a passing servant and make a request for breakfast. She suspected she was too late to join Leliana and Cullen for their usual conjunction of strategy meeting and morning meal.

That, and there was other company beckoning her attention. The glowing autumn dawn didn't bother Cassandra, who was buried in Josephine's not-so-broad bed, hair tousled and tangled, smelling of sweat and rain and leather, with Josephine magnificently uncaring of all that because she'd been able to curl around Cassandra in the dark and press her face in the nape of her neck.

She'd make a gentle comment later. In fact, she ducked back into the corridor, interrupted the servant again before he could vanish down the stairs, and added a bathtub and hot water to her list of requests.

Cassandra rolled onto her back as Josephine closed the door and turned the key. Her voice husked with lingering sleep. "Good morning. I see I made it to the right door."

"I should hope so, my dear lady!" Laughter tickled in her breast. "Are there perhaps other beds in Skyhold you tend to fall into when tired out of your wits?"

Cassandra flushed. It continued to be, even after many months, breathtakingly sweet a sight. "No. Not even my own, it seems."

Josephine fell to sit on the unoccupied half of the bed. "You're welcome to mine." She carded slow, tender fingers through Cassandra's hair.

"I should have stopped at the waystation. It was foolhardy to ride in the dark."

"True," Josephine said, "but then I wouldn't have had the privilege of you snoring in my ear all night."

"I do not." Cassandra _hmph_ ed weakly.

"Of course not. Unbecoming of a Seeker's dignity."

"You are impossible." Cassandra scooped her close by the waist, until they were practically nose to nose. "I should--"

She seemed to stall on the choice of a suitable punishment, but Josephine had quite forgotten her teasing. The laces of Cassandra's thin linen undershirt had worked themselves loose, dropping her collar open. Josephine traced the length of the exposed clavicle with a fingertip, humming. "You should?"

"I suppose it is fair." Rucking up Josephine's robe, Cassandra stroked a hand up her side. "You must charm the rest of the world. If you wish to speak bluntly to me, I'll endure it." It took a keen ear to hear the merest shade of amusement in her words; Josephine had honed hers to catch it.

"Take care with such promises," she whispered back. "You haven't heard half of what I wish of you today."

"Ah." The drowsy sheen had faded from Cassandra's eyes. "Will there be a list of demands? With my boots and mail as the surety?"

Josephine bent low over her then, one hand grasping the side of her head. "Indeed." Her hair tumbled forth over her shoulder in a mass of curling locks, momentarily foiling her. Laughing, a marvellous, throaty laugh that made Josephine swallow hard, Cassandra swept it back.

"Well, you have me quite cornered. State your terms."

"I've sent for breakfast--and yes, a bath." Josephine painted the contours of Cassandra's cheeckbone and jaw with her finger. When she twisted down underneath the jaw, then along a tendon, Cassandra gave a pleased, shuddering breath. "I do have to apologise for the lack of rose petals, but I secured a vial of rose essence."

"That is agreeable." Beside the swell of Josephine's hip, Cassandra toyed with the sash of her robe. Josephine made a low noise of abrupt longing. Outside her bedroom the morning bell had sounded, and back in her study her correspondence was piled up, most likely conspiring to multiply while her back was turned.

"And," she went on, quashing the thought of her looming duties, "then we'll take the breakfast to the solar, and I will feed you those Antivan cherry tarts I kept promising. Possibly with my fingers."

Cassandra's chuckle hitched her shoulders, softly pinned by Josephine's hands now. "Keep speaking like that and I may let you."

"I was thinking--" Josephine tucked a wet, wicked kiss into the corner of Cassandra's ear and jaw. "That we might move on to sealing this accord."

Cassandra's fingers slipped over her cheek, canting her head down. She bowed into the kiss with a sigh that was half contentment, half anticipation. The bed was warmed by the sun and by Cassandra, and Josephine shrugged out of her robe and curled close into the angle of her body. Every touch lingered and circled, easy as a stolen morning.

Her letters would wait.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Dormiveglia._ The state of being half-asleep or half-awake.


End file.
